Kairos
by MistressMira
Summary: Kairos- The perfect, delicate, crucial moment. The fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for actions, words, or movement. UPDATE: It has been pointed out to me that my ending is a huge cliffhanger. I will be working on a continuation to give the story some resolution for the two. Thanks for the lovely reviews!
1. You Run

Hawke sat at the edge of her bed in silence, her black hair creating a curtain around her face. Every once in a while her shoulders would twitch and a tear would slip slowly down the already prominent tracks on her face. She had sat silently through her uncle blaming her for her mother's death, stoic through Aveline's speech, and mutely through Sebastian's Chant and prayer to the Maker. Hawke shook her head at the memory. Even the Chantry claimed the Maker turned his back on the world, why be so devout to someone who doesn't care? Especially if he could let necromancers run around killing innocent women like her mother? Well, the Tevinter Imperium did burn his Bride at the stake so Hawke could be a little understanding.

So deep in her questioning of The Maker's will she barely noticed her bedroom door open and swiftly click closed behind her uninvited guest. Her bed dipped beside her, this time with Fenris' weight, and she subconsciously leaned toward him. Even in her hardened state she was irresistibly drawn to the elf.

"I don't know what to say but I am here." His deep rumble soothed her in its familiarity.

She returned with a broken, "Just say something. Anything."

"They say death is only a journey. Does that help?"

"It just raises more questions. Journey to where?"

Fenris shifted uncomfortably next to her. Hawke glanced through her hair at him, her eye catching the red sash tied around his wrist. She had barely noticed it when they had been searching The Foundry for her mother but now it seemed to taunt her against the dark color of his leggings. His _trophy_ for bedding the great Hawke. She couldn't bring herself to look at the crest on his hip. To see the Amell crest now would not help the mage retain the modicum of control she had.

His gauntleted hands rested on his knees and the hand with the favor twitched lightly as he spoke again.

"I don't know. It is just something people say."

When Fenris' hand twitched again Hawke reached her hand out to take his claw covered one. He recoiled from her, drawing his hand away quickly and letting out a hiss of breath. The already broken woman, who had only been seeking comfort from the stubborn object of her affection, cracked a little more.

"Sorry," she said, proud of her unwavering voice, "I forgot. You can't let the filthy mage touch you."

Hawke felt a surge of pleasure as the barb hit home. The elf visibly stiffened beside her and let out a low growl. When his markings let out a low pulse, indicating that she had made him angry, she decided to push. She was overwhelmed with the desire to hurt someone, _anyone_, just so she didn't have to feel alone with her pain. What better person then the man that had caused her heart to begin to tear itself to pieces before that bastard Quentin destroyed what was left? How dare he come here to offer comfort when he had none to offer?

"We already made that mistake. Let's not repeat it, shall we?" She spat the words at him.

"Hawke." Her name came out sounding like he was barely restraining himself.

She finally turned to face him. Violet eyes streaked red and wet cut through his anger, slightly cooling his temper. Her nose was messy and reddish in color while the rest of her skin was sallow and pale. Grief and hopelessness pulled at the edges of her eyes yet he could still see the flame in them that sent her headlong into battle at a moment's notice. Her lips were puffy and pulled into a pout. He could see teeth marks in her lower lip where she had bitten down to hold her tongue. Fenris briefly wondered who had been here before him. He had never seen Hawke cry, not after he had barely explained why he was fleeing her bed in the middle of the night, not when she slid a blade into her brother's heart in the Deep Roads, and not after the broken leg she suffered fighting Tal Vashoth on the Wounded Coast. She had only allowed Fenris to help her that day because he had thrown her over his shoulder before she could protest.

Hawke stood up abruptly when he didn't say anything more. She moved to in front of her fireplace and started gently teasing the flames with her own conjured flames. She was deliberately using magic to provoke him and Fenris was trying, almost successfully, to let her rage without making it worse. He had caused some of the pain she was holding on to. He wanted to tell her that he was just as upset and confused about it as she was but still hadn't come up with what to say. While the mage kept her back to him in silence he tried to find a way to say that it wasn't that he didn't want her to touch him. It was that he _couldn't_ let her touch him. He could barely control his desire for her when she was near him and it would be impossible if she got that close.

"I'll try my best, "Hawke broke the silence, "to make sure that I don't _spoil_ you anymore than I have."

It was Fenris' turn to get to his feet and lash out. He crossed over to her and stood almost exactly where he stood the night he left her. She faced him head on, ready for anything he might respond with. She set her jaw, almost like she expected a blow, and curled her fists to her sides.

"I never said that, Hawke." He bit out.

"Oh, I clearly remember you saying it. 'What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?' I've heard you tell Anders you believe mages should be made Tranquil. That we are vile, wretched creatures that deserve imprisonment just for being born different." She was raging now, a heavy aura of mana hanging in the air. "I almost believe it now, you know? I encounter blood mages and abominations so often that I wonder what the Circle is really teaching them. A blood mage just killed my mother. A blood mage tormented and enslaved you for years. Why should I believe that magic has any good left in it?"

Fenris reached for her then and this time she reacted harshly. Hawke blocked his hands with her arms and screamed at him. The word 'no' hung in the air between them for several minutes. Hawke was shaking with anger and unspoken words directed at the elf. Fenris saw in her eyes the moment she decided to cut him with words.

"I don't think you really want to touch me, elf. Who knows how many days it will take you to get clean this time?"

"You are wearing my patience with you, Hawke." Fenris' marks lit up brighter, making his point for him. He was unsure what bothered him more, her disgust at his deplorable actions in the past or that she presumed that he run from her due to her magic instead of his own cowardice.

"Ah, yes, because patience is something you have in spades, isn't it?" Hawke brought her finger up and poked him sharply in the center of his breastplate. "Tolerance is your middle name, isn't it, Fenris? If only I had half the _patience _you have, I might be able to stop the Qunari from invading without killing any of them."

Fenris grabbed her wrist, careful not to let his clawed gauntlets tear her flesh, and twisted her arm to the side. He wasn't much larger than her but he was far stronger and quickly had her backed into the wall of her room. He pinned the hand that had been poking at him to the cool stone and spread his other hand across her breast above her heart. She looked at him defiantly and he could see barely a ring of violet around her pupils. Her chest rose and fell with her panting breath and her skin flushed hot under her thin robes. Fenris was confused at the way her heart pounded in her chest. It wasn't the normal fearful flutter he felt before he tore through a chest but a strong, steady hammer against her breast.

"Did the Big Bad Wolf finally catch himself The Red Robed Apostate?" She practically cooed the taunt at him with hints of venom dripping off of it. She had no fear when his hand shifted into the Fade and started breeching her skin. "Is the Wolf going to tear out my heart so I can't spoil anything else? You've already broken it; why not tear it out more literally this time?"

He had only wanted to get her to stop tormenting him with her barbed tongue he hadn't expected to hear something like that. He pulled his hand out of her body and shook off the last of the lyrium's power.

He searched her eyes while Hawke lost herself in the twin emerald pools. He expressed so much through his eyes and wasn't even aware of it. Hawke watched dozens of things cross those beautiful green orbs ranging from confusion to lust to shame. She let the silence build between them deciding to just be content he was this close. He hadn't moved his hands much and she was aware of the hand sitting on the swell of her breast. While he waged his mental war she kept her eyes on his, never wavering. With a deep breath she leaned into the touch experimentally, waiting to see what flickered behind his eyes.

When his eyes dilated without giving away anything else she knew she had him where she wanted him. Before she had hoped he would lose his precious control and hurt her or kill her but this made for a more interesting turn of events. This she could use. If he wouldn't end her misery than he could at least break her body with his unrelenting touch and inability to be gentle. With her free hand she slipped under his breastplate and grabbed the waist of his leggings. Curling her fingers into the fabric, she yanked, urging him to close the gap between them. He gave in, allowing her to pull him flush with her but issued a rumble from deep in his chest that caused her to shiver. The elf was dangerous on the best of days and she was playing with a wolf that was unaware it was being hunted.

Fenris surprised her when he crushed his lips to hers, tilting his head and urging her to allow him access. Out of sheer inability to reign in her desire for the warrior dominating her she accepted him. His tongue danced fiercely with her and hungry lips pulled at hers. Hawke was unaware of when he released the hand pinned to the wall or when she had threaded it into his hair. Fenris was no longer touching her but removing his gauntlets with practiced ease. When he had them removed he turned his hands to more wicked endeavors.

He slid one hand up thigh until he had firm grasp and lifted it around his middle. His other hand moved to her throat and he slipped it inside the neck before yanking one side down her shoulder. Hawke gasped at the sound of tearing fabric. _Anders may call him a beast but he doesn't understand how good that can be. _ When she tore away from his mouth he moved to her neck skimming over flesh that was still marked from his last visit alone with her. She let out a loud moan when he nipped the sensitive junction between her neck and shoulder. Tired of his hard breastplate, she untangled her hand from his hair and worked on the buckles.

After several frustrating minutes and dealing with an elf that wouldn't quit doing things that made her melt, she got the armor off and let it clang to the ground with a satisfying thud. With the form fitting metal out of the way his markings lay bare but he gave her no time to admire them before he had loosened the tie of her house robe and laid her bare to him. He let the material hang off her arms and moved directly to her usually hidden assets.

Fenris kneeled before her moving his hands to her breasts while he laid small nips and bites across her stomach. Hawke kept one hand in his white locks while the other tried to help her hold herself in an upright position by gripping the stone at her back. As he worked his way toward her wet center Hawke chose to speak again.

"Your Little Red Robed Apostate wants to know what you are planning to do with her." She was surprised at the depth of her voice and the lust that tinged it.

He looked up at her, emerald eyes gleaming with pure mischief, and said, "You shouldn't compare us to that storybook tale, Hawke."

"Why not, it seems fitting, don't you think?" She gave him the pout she knew usually caused him to do whatever she was asking.

He gave her a smirk that she was sure was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen before replying, "Because the Big Bad Wolf _eats_ her."

With that said he turned back to his task and began to devour her wet heat. Hawke let out a scream of delight and fought the tremble in her body. Fenris worked her center with his tongue, dipping it in and out of her core. He would come back up and give her nub a long exploration with the tip of his tongue. Her trembling became almost violent and she knew she wouldn't stay standing much longer. Fenris moved away and eased her to her knees and away from the wall. When he had her back on the carpet in front of the fireplace he left her on her knees and lay down on the ground underneath her.

Fenris kept his body behind her so when Hawke looked down all she could see was the crown of his head and those eyes that held her still for him. She hovered over his face on shaky thighs while he worked long, sword callused fingers up her inner thighs. Before he reached her center he worked his hands around to the meat under her buttocks and pulled her closer to his face. Tentative licks were met with soft moans until Hawke found herself trying to rock her hips in his grip. He changed technique, sucking her clit into his mouth and lightly grazing it with his teeth. The change in pace caused her to buck sharply and he let go with soft smacking noise.

Hawke looked down into a pair of eyes that were lit with desire so deep that she moaned and rocked again against his chin. The lines on his chin gave a soft pulse and caused an involuntary spasm in midsection. Hawke was surprised to find that she wanted to continue to rub herself across his face. She started a small rhythm of shallow thrusts trying to gauge his reaction. At that moment she swore he was smiling. She couldn't see his mouth to confirm it but the mirth reflected in his eyes was clear. Fenris then pushed and pulled her hips to speed her rhythm while moving his mouth to her inner folds. With her rocking backing forth in an almost punishing pace he devoured her core, using his tongue to fuck her while she cried out above him. His name fell from her lips like a mantra until the edge of her impending fall caused her silence. When he felt her body tighten with the encroaching orgasm he started to growl into her. At this point he was a man starved, taking and tasting the bounty placed before him.

The orgasm hit her so hard that she fell forward, barely catching her hands on the floor to keep from falling on her face. She quivered and gasped from her knees while the elf that had been beneath her now chuckled from behind her. She looked over her shoulder, intending to give him a withering look but what she saw gave her pause. She had never seen Fenris like this. He was barely hanging on to the edges of his control, his markings ablaze and a dangerous aura about his presence. His snowy hair was disheveled and the corners of his mouth were pulled into the beginnings of a smile. He remained on his knees as well; content to watch her try to reign in her body.

As she stopped shaking he reached out to stroke her lower back. His other hand went to her hip and he used his fingers to still her swaying motions. Hawke tracked his movements and waited to see what his next move would be. She had only been this vulnerable with him one other time and she had had to reassure him constantly that it was okay, she trusted him. Now she didn't know what to expect from him since he had decided that control was something he could have.

He let go of her to stand and when she tried to follow he put a hand up to stop her. "Stay exactly where you are, Hawke. We aren't finished yet."

His words tore a groan from her throat and she turned her head away so he wouldn't see her face. Hawke was positive Fenris would read everything and she wasn't sure she wanted him to know the extent of his power over her. She heard him untie the laces of his leggings and fabric sliding down muscled legs. Her mind provided her with a mental picture from just a few days ago and she whimpered at the thought of what he was about to use.

Fenris returned to his knees behind her, sliding his thighs up to rest against her backside. She felt him resting between her cheeks and reached a hand behind her. From between her legs she cupped his balls in her palm and rolled her fingers, gently kneading the flesh. He let out a choked moan before biting it short and pulling away from her grasp.

"Not yet, Hawke," he panted out, "put your hand back. You are going to need it."

No sooner then she had replaced her hand on the carpeted floor he had sheathed himself to the hilt inside her. The earlier work had her dripping already and his entrance was smooth. Before giving her time to adjust he set a rough pace. Her ears filled with the sound of slapping flesh, her deep, gut pulled groans, and panting breaths from the elf that were beginning to sound like growls. The unrelenting grip he had on her hips and the careful controlled pace told her that he wasn't letting go yet. Fenris was still in control of his faculties and Hawke wanted the beast inside him. The untamed, feral thing that always lurked just below the surface and he kept so carefully leashed.

"Fenris?" Hawke called for his attention. "Fenris."

When he didn't respond she turned to look at him again. He was gritting his bared teeth in concentration with a faraway look in his eyes. Her eyes roamed over the flex of his neck and rolling muscle in his corded arms. The movement in his abdominal muscles caused each individual muscle to strain against the skin with each breath.

"Fenris!" Hawke saw his eyes snap to hers with a look that seemed to plead for…something. Undeterred Hawke rolled her hips at him watching his face pinch and he went full puppy dog eyes on her. That look that turned her to a puddle and made her want to wrap him up her arms. He usually reserved that look for when he _really_ didn't want to do something or when he just wanted her to _stop_ and let him do what he needed to.

"Hawke." Her name came out breathlessly.

He never broke pace so she met his hips beat for beat in an attempt to quicken the pace. If she could just get him to step over that edge with her then there was no telling what they could do.

"Harder, love," Hawke moaned,"Just let go."

"No," he was struggling to speak now, "I will not hurt you."

"No, you won't." Hawke made her point by slamming her hips back into his. "Let go, love."

Hawke turned back to face forward, hoping that if she wasn't watching him that he might be more inclined to acquiesce to the idea that she wasn't something delicate. He moved a hand from her hip, over her lower back, and up the middle of her spine. He then pushed her down so her chest and head were on the floor. Her cheek rubbed on the carpet but the plush fiber teased her nipples at the same time. When she didn't protest he turned the pace brutal and she could see his markings glow brighter in the dim firelight.

"Yes," she hissed out, "that's it. Just. Let. GO!"

As that last word tore from her lips Fenris bellowed out a roar, the air around them burned with blue light, and he pounded her into the floor. Her cheek was rubbed into the carper hard enough to leave a burn and the hand pressed into her back would no doubt leave a mark. The fevered pace caused the impassioned mage to cry out, a string of unintelligible words pouring from her lips. He bent forward putting his chest to her back and Hawke could make out broken Tevene flowing from his mouth into her ear. His hips lost rhythm, breaking his pace and stuttering out the beginnings of his release.

A broken moan from Fenris of, "Festis bei umo canavarum," before clamping his teeth into the side of her throat and Hawke tumbled over the edge with him. In a flash of blue and white both bodies pitched forward, landing in a heap of tangled limbs. Fenris lay still, stiff and tight against her with his arms encircling her possessively. Hawke molded to the embrace. She knew what those words meant; she had heard them out of frustration numerous times. To hear them in a moment of unbarred vulnerability instead of when he disliked her decisions was heart breaking.

He would run, again, and this time it would be forever before he would come back, if he comes back. _If you love something let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't then it never was._ Her mother's oft repeated phrase rang in her head as she listened to the panting breaths that filled the silence. Hawke realized then that they had come full circle, the moment was over. When her thoughts returned to the mother she was grieving, she made a promise to herself and her mother.

_Ok, mother. I know I spent years not listening to anything you said. I heard you though. I will let him go. It will eat me alive but I'm choosing to trust that you're right. You always were I was just too stubborn to acknowledge it._

The air in the room shifted as Fenris caught his breath. He let his eyes wander over the beautiful bare form he still held tightly. Hawke was perfect in his eyes, the fact that she was a mage scared him but he was almost sure of her strength. Hawke would broker no deal with demons and would never slit her wrists to power her own spells. She certainly would never use someone else's blood; the woman couldn't stand it getting on her, which happened more often than not. He sensed the moment she started to drift into sleep but he needed to leave before that happened. He couldn't abandon her in the middle of the night again, he needed to go back to his dilapidated mansion and think.

He slowly started to extricate himself from her body and was surprised when she made no move to keep him there. Last time she had reached out, attempting to stop his flight and telling him they could work through it; now she seemed resigned to the fact that he would flee and was going to let him go without a word. As he dressed he watched her climb to her knees and crawl to her bed. Hawke climbed in quickly and covered up, barely sparing him a glance.

When the last buckle was set he walked toward the bedroom door. Fenris turned to face her, knowing he didn't have to explain, but wanting to provide it anyway.

"Hawke," he began, "I…"

She held up her hand to keep him from continuing. "It's alright Fenris. You need to go. I don't mind."

He stayed there for only another moment before flashing her that heart breaking look and swiftly exiting her chambers. She called softly to him but he kept walking, she knew he heard her with his sensitive ears. Hawke listened to his bare feet pad down the stairs and a low goodnight to Bodahn before the main doors were latched behind him. After she was sure he was gone she pressed her hand to the side of her neck. The bite mark stung and was slightly bloody. She cast a small healing spell to stop the oozing and start the healing process. When Fenris saw that it had scarred he would be upset, especially since he didn't seem to realize he had left it, but she would wear it proud and treat it like the favor on his wrist and her crest on his hip. She curled up on her side hugging the blankets tight around her and finally let herself cry. She cried for Bethany, she cried for Carver, she cried for her father and mother, and she cried for Fenris. She wept for the former slave and all he's endured. She wept for the mess it left behind and the freedom he wouldn't allow himself to have until the mage that thought he owned him was dead.

As Hawke cried until she slipped into a broken sleep Fenris drank and rampaged through his stolen mansion. He cursed himself for being unable to give her what she needed and obviously wanted. He was just a broken slave squatting in a rundown mansion and an elf to boot. Hawke was a Hightown noble now, human and an apostate living in the open. He was still utterly confused as to why she wanted him when all he did was leave her in an emotional mess afterward. He'd hurt her tonight, physically and emotionally, again, when all he'd wanted to do was comfort her and make the pain go away. She had spoken to him, while he was still close to her door but her words were wrong for what he had done.

"Fasta Vass!" He screamed to the empty room, smashing another chair against the broken walls. "Why would she thank me?"

With his energy finally spent and limbs shaking from the lack of adrenaline, he finally collapsed into one of the only chairs that had been spared his wrath. He buried his face into the palms of his hands, hoping that he could just figure out _why_ she allowed him such concessions with her. Hawke had called him "love" yet he had no concept of love only of pain and anger. Pain and anger were warm, familiar, _manageable, _feelings. This thing that was quickly becoming obsession frightened him. He wanted her with him always but wanted her as far away from him as she could get just to keep her from Danarius. He couldn't do that though, she wouldn't allow it and he need her help to kill his former master.

Fenris sat in that chair, brooding as Varric would say, until the early hours of the morning. He slept in that chair with his head propped on one arm until midafternoon. Once he had cleaned up, he headed out to the Wounded Coast, wanting the salt air to cleanse his turbulent thoughts.

He was out for only 2 days; when he returned Kirkwall was burning and the Qunari stood over freshly dead citizens in the streets. His thoughts focused into only one immediate purpose, _Find Hawke._


	2. Unaffected

**Apologies for this taking so long. Real Life came through and knocked my knees right out from underneath me. No, really, that's what happened. I fell about 6 weeks ago and sprained my hip. **

"**Yeah, right," you say. "Who does stupid shit like that?"**

**This girl. I do stupid shit like that. But wait…there's more.**

**Due to my weak movements and inability to say I need a little help I fell down my stairs. I only slid down about 5 of them but let me tell you I hurt myself something fierce. I displaced a disc and have been laid up, not moving much for a while and things are much better now. Since I am no longer on the pain meds I can see and thinks straight and focus on my writing again.**

**Anyway, I've rambled on long enough. On with Chapter 2 in what has become a 5 shot instead of a one or 2 shot.**

The next day Hawke dragged herself from her bed and surveyed the damage done to her body. In reality it wasn't too bad. Her cheek burned from the rug, her neck stung from the bite, but none of the finger and hand shaped bruises hurt. They ached but it was more of a reminder of Fenris' unyielding grip than anything painful.

She used a few elfroot poultices to clean up the wounds on her face and neck before dressing herself for the day. She chose a high, loose necked robed for the purpose of hiding the fresh bite from prying eyes. She didn't need to cause extra attention since she was already choosing not to magically heal them. If she wanted to speak to Varric she needed as little as possible giving it away until she could tell him what she wanted him to know.

Looking at herself one last time before she left she winced at the mark on her face. She had bruises and scrapes left unhealed in the past but none had ever been caused by her companions. Especially Fenris. Hawke had always assumed he was used to fighting with mages and knew where she would inevitably end up. Many times she would come to a sudden halt to cast and Fenris would slide right past her as if they had practiced the move hundreds of times. He was never in her line of fire and she had never been caught in a stray arc of his massive great sword. To see her own body marked by his hands was disconcerting and she couldn't imagine how he would feel once he saw her.

Deciding nothing could be done about it now aside from casting magic openly in her doorway for all of Hightown to see, she headed to her favorite dwarf for distraction, drinking, and inevitable explaining why their resident brooding elf may be missing for a while. The walk from Hightown to Lowtown was uneventful and she was grateful. She had left her staff at home anyway.

Upon entering the Hanged Man, Hawke noticed two things while she headed to her friend's suite. One was that Isabela was sitting at her usual place at the bar but was flirting with a cloaked woman. When the woman would laugh, Hawke could see her mouth and it was just as full and naturally wicked as the one she saw in the mirror. Isabela winked and waved to her then went back to her discussion with the hooded woman. The second was that Varric was already waiting for her in his doorway with a look on his face that said he needed answers. Immediately.

Hawke headed toward the dwarf failing to notice a small group of Grey Wardens sitting around the very drunk man in the back that always claims he is an exiled prince. She should have paid better attention and she might have been able to avoid airing her family secrets in public.

Instead the emotionally exhausted mage smiled at her friend and said, "Varric! Why so glum? Did the Merchant's Guild demand another tribute from the House Tethras after you were so generous the last time?"

"House Tethras is always generous, Hawke." The dwarf offered a curt smile. "Where is your shadow?"

Hawke looked at the ground. "Right there; where it always is."

"I meant Broody."

"At home?" Hawke offered.

"Have you been to his place today, Hawke? It's trashed."

Hawke raised an eyebrow, "I hadn't noticed."

"More than usual."

"Oh." The mage breathed out while sinking into a chair. "That is…unexpected."

"It doesn't seem like it from where I'm standing."

Hawke sighed. She hadn't even told anyone about the first time they had gotten together. Fenris had taken to wearing that ribbon and crest but neither one had said anything about their real relationship. If Varric didn't know where Fenris was than he was not in Kirkwall.

_Would he really leave Kirkwall? _

"Look, Hawke," the dwarf continued, "the last few days have been rough, especially for you. I at least know why. What I don't understand is an extra broody elf wearing a ribbon around his wrist and your crest on his waist that has seemingly broken most of what was left in that mansion and left the city. Why would that be Hawke?"

"Why do you think I know anything about that?"

"Quit the innocent act Hawke!" Varric was showing his frustration. "You have a mark on your face, you two avoid each other when you aren't staring at each other, and now all the sudden you've decided that high neck robes are fashionable? You have worn that robe several times the last couple weeks. What are you two hiding?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me, Hawke."

Hawke mentally kicked herself. This is exactly what she had come here for and yet she was doing everything she could to avoid saying anything out loud. After a few more heartbeats Hawke hung her head and sighed.

"A disaster, Varric, a disaster of the most epic proportions. A tragedy in the making. Something I knew was stupid, and dangerous, and totally worth it. A moment born of idiocy and grief. A choice I am both proud and ashamed of at the same time so try not to make it worse."

"Tell me and I'll decide if it needs to be made worse on your end or his."

"Keep in mind that I blame him for nothing."

"Just tell me Hawke."

Hawke settled into her chair to tell the tale and Varric listened intently. There was a story worth a thousand gold here and he wasn't going to miss any of it. As Hawke told her story another played out inside the tavern common room just down the stairs.

The wardens surrounding the drunken prince waited for him to focus on their faces and recognition to set in before speaking. As Alistair slowly pieced together the blue and grey uniforms another face swam through his vision. A face that he found beautiful and terrifying, a face he sometimes saw walk through the tavern, a face that made him angry.

Once he focused on the closest face to him, he spoke. "You are wasting your time here. I have nothing to say to anyone who follows under that treacherous bitch's command."

As the hooded woman at the bar visibly stiffened, a warden at the table addressed the drunk.

"I am Warden Nathaniel Howe. I believe that name should be familiar to you."

Alistair leaned in and focused on his face. "Arl Howe. She killed your father. I was there."

"Do you remember why she killed him?" The warden asked.

"He was an evil man. He tortured men, imprisoned them for not fitting into his plans, and helped Loghain sell elves into slavery. Raven loves the elves and she hated that." Alistair spat at the man. "Your father was just as evil as the man who betrayed us all at Ostagar."

The wardens surrounding him sat in silence. Nathaniel was holding himself in check but barely. He knew his father had done horrible things but that didn't mean he could listen to others say vile things about him. The hooded woman and Isabela were watching them now and Alistair took note that they were holding hands. _It seems the pirate still charms all the women, _he thought, _even Raven adored her._

He turned his attention back to Nathaniel. "Why are you even here? I was exiled. I can't go back to Ferelden and the name Grey Warden means nothing while the traitor Loghain wears its armor."

_He doesn't know. _Nathaniel looked to the hooded woman and she nodded her head once. Nathaniel turned back to Alistair and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Loghain died slaying the archdemon. In the end he sacrificed himself for Ferelden. The Warden Commander wouldn't allow him to be celebrated as a hero and had his name stricken from the Ferelden Warden's records. Loghain is no warden. We are just here to return a hero back to his place."

"Is she still in charge? Why isn't she here?" Alistair stood up and locked eyes with the hooded woman. "Why can't she face the man she claimed to love and yet allowed to be exiled?"

The warrior moved faster than any of them expected and pounced on the woman with Isabela. He picked her up with the front of her cloak pulling her off the stool. She reached up and grabbed the wrist of the hand holding her but didn't try to pry him off. With her other hand she gestured to the other wardens to hold off.

"Who are you?" He whispered as he pulled the cloak from her revealing her face.

Under the cloak resided a mass of black hair and pale skin. Violet eyes searched the warrior's amber ones and the whole tavern stopped with bated breath. From the top of the stairs Hawke let out an audible gasp and Varric muttered, "Nug shit."

The next few moments had the group in chaos. After the initial shock had worn off, Alistair pulled out a dragonbone dagger and dragged the Warden Commander away from the group. The Wardens rallied around them forming a cresant and Isabela carefully circled behind the pair. Alistair spun Raven around holding the blade to her throat and growled in her ear.

"I should cut your throat, love." Alistair's words curled directly into Raven's ear and she went slack in his arms. "You let that traitor live. You let me get exiled. You didn't even fight for me."

"I did." Raven stuttered out. "I saved you."

"Saved me? From what? From you? I can agree to that."

"I saved your life. You weren't there but it's true. I saved your life."

Alistair pressed the blade into her throat until it drew blood. His panting allowed him to draw deep breaths of the woman he held. After all these years it was still the same. She smelt of dust, books, and magic. Her frame still fit perfectly into the circle of his arms against his chest. For a moment he wondered how they had gone from lovers to enemies over the course of one Landsmeet.

Nathaniel stepped forward. "The warden that takes the life of the archdemon dies in the process. Loghain took the final blow and his soul went to the void along with the archdemon's. I can't think of a better ending for him."

Alistair twisted Raven around enough that he could look her in the eyes. "Is that true?"

She blinked once, letting the tears that clouded her eyes to slip out, and answered him.

"Yes." She replied. "When I found out the price I was glad you left and let you go. If you had come back you would have taken that blow. I couldn't let that happen."

"You didn't know that before you let Loghain live."

"No I didn't. I figured it would be something like that though. Secrecy, blood rituals and the like never lead to a happy ending."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Would you have believed me? You didn't know yourself and you had been a warden longer than I had. I'm a circle raised mage that had access to a plethora of history books. These things always end badly."

Raven pulled away from Alistair and he let her go. As soon as they separated, Nathaniel rushed to the Commander's side. He pressed a cloth to her wound right as Hawke spoke up from her perch on the stairs.

"I can fix that for you if you'd like." Hawke moved down the stairs towards the group. "I can heal it."

Raven turned to the newcomer and was immediately taken aback. The woman addressing her could be her twin sister. She had often been mistaken for the woman since she had been in the Free Marches. The only difference was that Hawke's hair was straight instead of the mess of ringlets that sat atop Raven's head. Hawke took a moment to get closer and really look at the strange woman with her pirate friend.

"It's alright, Hawke." Raven answered. "I can heal it myself."

"How did you..?"

"I have often been told that my cousin, the infamous Lady Hawke of Kirkwall, and I bear a striking resemblance."

"The Hero of Ferelden."

"Yes, that is one of the many things they call me. One of the more pleasant ones at least, I didn't exactly win over a lot of people when I spared Loghain or when I let the last Theirin be exiled from his home."

"I didn't give you much choice." Alistair said.

"It's alright Alistair. It's my fault. You didn't want to be king and I didn't want you to die. Riordan was right. The more wardens we had the better our chances would be. It doesn't matter now. The Blight has been over for years."

"Not for me." Alistair muttered.

Raven frowned at him. "Do you have a room here, Alistair? Get yourself cleaned up. Do you at least still have some armor?"

"Yes. I still have my splint mail."

"Put it on and meet us back down here in an hour. Nathaniel, please go with him and get him sober. If he's going to rejoin the wardens I need him able to have a conversation that he'll remember."

"Hey!" Alistair protested. "I never said I was coming with you."

"I never said I was giving you a choice." Raven stared at him coldly. "I could leave you here for Bann Teagan. I heard Arl Eamon was sending him here right before we left port. You can come with me and do your duty as a sworn warden or you can go back to Redcliffe and get killed when Arl Eamon decides a Theirin needs to be on the throne. Which do you prefer?"

"I'm shutting up now." Alistair pouted and turned to do as he was told.

Nathaniel followed the warrior up the stairs and around to his room. The other wardens returned to the table they were sitting at leaving the women and dwarf to talk. Varric bounced his eyes back and forth between Hawke and Amell while Isabela giggled like a mad woman.

"I told you, Varric." The glee was clear in Isabela's throaty voice. "Isn't it delightful? Like twins I said and no one believed me."

"That's because no one believes you bedded the Hero of Ferelden." Varric retorted.

"Technically I wasn't the Hero yet." Raven offered. "Alistair and I were still trying to find help for the Landsmeet."

Varric's jaw dropped and Isabela cackled at him. Hawke stared in disbelief at all of them. Isabela really did know them and the wet frocks thing Alistair had been talking about was truth. Hawke had never believed either of them when they talked about Raven Amell. She swore she would never question Anders knowledge about the Hero again.

"So, cousin," Raven addressed Hawke, "You are making quite the name for yourself around here. Conqueror of the Deep Roads? Not bad for an apostate with little formal training."

"I saw you in Lothering. You and that man. He's a Templar so I always notice. I didn't recognize him the way he looks now. My sister swore I was crazy but I told her there was a mage that looked just like me roaming around in the open. Staff strapped to her back and all. Carver said I was losing it after Ostagar but I knew he was wrong. You were leaving when we arrived and the locals were confused, they thought you were me."

"That explains why the locals were so friendly and even rallied around us when a few of Loghain's men attacked us. I always wondered why Leliana spent so much time staring at me. I thought it was because she liked women but that explains a lot more. I wonder why she didn't say anything. Anyway, how are things with you? You look like you've had an adventure recently."

"An adventure in spikes and lyrium." Isabela interjected.

"Good one Isabela." Varric agreed. "You should write that down for later."

"Don't you dare!" Hawke rounded on the two. "Normally I don't mind your little forays into friend inspired fiction but you do realize Fenris will kill all three of us if you start throwing around glowing elves in your trash."

"Glistening, kitten," Isabela sighed, "I'd have him glisten."

"Oh, yes because that is better."

"You guys are fun." Raven spoke with a broad smile on her face. "Does the elf glow or does he glisten? I find myself curious."

"He glows." Varric offered. "Isabela wants to see him glisten. You don't really want to see him glow though. He's usually ripping someone's heart out when he does that."

"Or when he's dashing across dead bodies to cleave someone in two just in time to save Hawke. Or that time he was upset after losing 4 hands of Wicked Grace in a row. Or when Hawke was flirting with the armor smith a few weeks ago…What were we talking about again?" Isabela rambled off looking lost in thought.

Hawke said, "He was glowing while I ordered my reinforced robes?"

Raven threw back her head and let out a hearty laugh. Her cousin had seemed to find herself in the company of a group of people that got along as often as they fought. It reminded her of a time before commanding an army and being responsible for so many lives. The only time in her life before recently that she had truly felt free.

"Let me buy a round of drinks while we wait for the men to return." Raven said. "I want to know what the issue with this glowing elf seems to be. I have dealt with some prickly characters in my time so maybe I can help."

"Thank you, dear cousin," Hawke answered, "I'd rather not talk about it with my two rather loud mouthed associates though."

The pair of rouges let out a unanimous, "Hey!" and Raven found herself laughing again. She never thought she'd actually have any fun on this trip and thoroughly expected an even rougher trip home filled with the delight that is a whiny Alistair.

"Then let us find a place out of earshot." Raven placed a handful of coin on the bar. "Keep my friends here occupied for a moment, barkeep, and please send your woman with some good whisky for us."

She led Hawke away to the room her and Varric had come from and closed the door behind her, leaving a crack in the door so that Norah could bring their drinks. She gestured for Hawke to sit and took a chair across the table from her.

"I know I don't know you well, Hawke." Raven began, "We are family though and I would like to think that we can talk about anything. Sometimes you need someone outside of the people around you constantly to offer new perspective. I hope you can trust me to keep your secrets."

"My mother often told me the same thing. That if I couldn't tell her or my friends I should at least talk to someone." Hawke returned. "You didn't come all the way from Ferelden to talk about my love life. It looks like you came here to fix yours. He called you 'love'."

"Aye, he did, didn't he? He meant it as an insult, mind you. I'm not sure he can trust me again no matter what my reasoning for that betrayal was."

"I don't see it as betrayal. There were only 2 of you left. You needed more wardens. It was the only logical thing to do."

"Are you sure you weren't circle raised? Most people don't think with their heads. At least not from what I've seen. Maker knows I still love Alistair but that man lets his heart do all the thinking."

"You came here because you love him. Are you sure he will be any easier to handle when he's sober?"

A sharp rap at the door announced Norah's arrival with some whiskey. She quickly entered and left a tray with the bottle and 2 glasses. Raven indicated to her to close the door properly on her exit and tipped the woman a sovereign for her troubles. Norah thanked her profusely and quietly shut the door behind her.

Raven pour a few fingers into each tumbler and knocked hers back with the practiced ease of a long time drinker. Hawke raised her eyebrow in surprise so Raven explained her tolerance.

"Alistair was not the only one affected by what happened. I chose to stay and fulfill my duties during the day and hammer the demons away with drink at night. It's easier that way…"

"Because if you get drunk enough you can't hear the desire demons call to you in your lover's voice." Hawke said.

"Have they come for you, cousin?"

"Once or twice." Hawke took a hearty swallow of her drink. "The last time I saw Fenris was last night and I was far too exhausted both physically and emotionally to enter the Fade."

Hawke spent the next half hour drinking and filling in her cousin on her relationship with the former slave. Raven interjected questions here and there, pointing things out Hawke hadn't thought of. Pouring her heart out to the last tie to her family that she had was cathartic. She ended her speech by showing Raven the mark on her neck.

"Wow." The Commander sat in silence for a moment. "I'm not sure whether to be turned on or appalled by that."

"It's a complicated situation." Hawke offered.

"That it is, cousin that it is. Did you enjoy it?

"What?"

"Did you enjoy it? What Fenris did to you?"

"I..." Hawke's cheeks turned red. "I encouraged it."

"Well that makes this a bit easier than. Let him go. He'll be back but don't push him again. Wait until he's ready. A slave that earned his own freedom, much like my Zevran, should never be made to feel like they have no choice. Love can be compared to slavery. He may feel that he is just tying himself to another mage. He already looks to you as a leader, if you make him feel like he has no choice with you outside of duty and take away his freedom to be confused and angry he will run away. Running is default mode for a man with his freedom to lose. I learned that lesson the hard way."

"Anders."

"What!?" Raven sat up straight in her chair, all hints of drink gone. "You've seen him? Where is he?"

"In Darktown, he runs a free clinic down there. He's always been quiet about the time with the wardens unless he and Isabela are specifically speaking about you."

"Well now," Raven looked away from Hawke and frowned, "looks like I'll be collecting my Templar and visiting a runaway mage."

"I wouldn't do that. Anders isn't exactly too keen on the Templars. Neither is Justice."

"Justice? I thought the spirit went back to the Fade when he could no longer hold Kristoff's body."

"Anders told me that Justice didn't know what would happen. He let Justice possess him. Justice is Anders now."

"Idiot!" Raven yelled out. "How could he be so stupid? It's no different, you idiot! Demon or spirit, it's the same thing!"

Raven's outburst had brought Nathaniel and Alistair into the room. The small mage was fuming and neither man was sure how to approach her.

"Commander?" Nathaniel spoke hesitantly. "What is going on?"

Raven whirled on the two. "Anders is here, Nathaniel. He's alive and he's done something so unbelievably stupid."

"What are we going to do Commander?"

"You and the others are going to back to the inn. Alistair and I are going to visit a naughty mage."

"Why do I have to go?" Alistair asked.

"Because you are the only person I have with me that has Templar abilities and because I told you to. Alistair head downstairs and wait for me by the doors." Raven answered.

When neither man moved Raven gave a small growl before barking, "Now!"

The two men jumped to follow orders and Raven turned back to Hawke. She ran a hand through her thick locks, giving a loud sigh and look of apology.

"I'm sorry to cut this short but I have to see this for myself. If I believe he's alright I will let him stay but if they aren't alright together then I will be forced to take him with me before the Chantry discovers what he really is."

"I understand. He seems alright if a bit obsessed with freeing the mages." Hawke supplied.

"Justice's influence no doubt. The man I know just wanted a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightening at fools. He most certainly wasn't concerned with anyone else's freedom except his own. He also had a strange thing for cats. I think Nathaniel made him get rid of the one I gave him."

Hawke laughed. "The first time I ever met him he talked about that cat. He wasn't happy and said it was a gift. He never said from whom."

"It was a pleasure to meet you cousin," Raven hugged her tightly; "I hope to see you again before we leave Kirkwall."

"If the lights on the clinic are out he isn't there. He does things that he refuses to talk about and I don't really ask. The coterie is also bad there."

With that Raven collected Alistair from the door and headed out in the city's cool night air. She and Alistair didn't find Anders at his clinic but the night was not a total loss for the pair.

That is another story…

**Author's note: I have a one shot written for the Wardens' reunion. It needs editing and will be posted separate from this. This is not their story but they will be sticking around to put in appearances.**

**Next chapter: What is Fenris up to and why does he decide to come back?**


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